Baskadia

THE BLIND ORPHAN BOY

Slowly, he walked, a walk like a crawl,

Rough and dirty, like one who got in a brawl,

A song he sang, with words and tears,

The story of his life, he hold amidst fears,

An orphan he became at ten,

Out of school he dropped, unable to learn,

Life became more miserable, as hell was let loose,

His sight, he lost, no one to help choose,

To the streets, he took, begging for alms,

Survival was hard, his destiny in his palms,

From hand to mouth, he scaped each day,

No where for him, a specific place to lay,

Inspite his seemingly helpless state,

He had in him a seed to make him great,

Not that of a preacher, to preach on the altar,

Dexterity he possessed, with his hands on a guitar,

Save goodness! Who will help him rise?

Who will offer counsel that is wise?

Who will buy a guitar for Roy?

Who will rescue the blind orphan boy?

THE BORN POET

(O.A.J)